“And the chances?”
“About equal to those of a convicted felon.”
The smile died out of Kate’s eyes. They were full of regretful sympathy.
“It’s pretty tough,” she said, turning from him. “It isn’t as if you had made a mistake, or neglected your duty.”
“No, I was beaten.”
The man turned away coldly. But his coldness was not for her.
“Is there no hope?” Kate asked presently, in a low tone.
Fyles shrugged.
“There might be if I had something definite to promise for the future. I mean a chance of—redeeming myself.”
Kate made no answer. The whole thing to her mind seemed impossible if it depended upon that. The thought of this strong man being broken through the police system, for no particular fault of his own, seemed very hard. Harder now than ever. She strove desperately to find a gleam of light in the darkness of his future. She would have given worlds to discover some light, and show him the way. But one thing seemed impossible, and he—well, he only made it harder. His very decision and obstinacy, she considered, were his chief undoing.